Picture Perfect
by Rookblonkorules
Summary: Dick and Barbara's relationship is outed before it's really had a chance to begin.


**Note:** A sort of Bruce finds out about Dick/Babs sort of fic. I've been going through all my old files and this is one of the unfinished works I found.

I've listed Barbara as a character, despite (spoiler alert!) her not showing up in this fic except by name simply because their relationship _is_ the focal point here.

* * *

Dick couldn't speak.

Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to get the words out around his thick tongue.

He couldn't lift his eyes from the incriminating photo.

He felt his cheeks grow warmer, the heat spreading to the very tips of his ears.

"Um…" was all he could think of to say.

Bruce drummed his fingers on the table.

Even without looking up, Dick knew the man's eyes were boring holes in the top of his skull and he flushed anew.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Bruce asked.

"Um…" Dick said again.

He dared a look up at Bruce.

His adoptive father's face was serious, but his eyes were twinkling.

Like this was all some big joke. Dick didn't find that fact consoling.

"Er… I can explain?" he tried.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with the ease of someone who has all day and knows it. "Than by all means, please do."  
Dick glanced back at the picture.

It would have been a nice picture, he thought, if it hadn't been plastered across the newspaper front along with the headline: _Has the Son of Gotham's Most Elusive Playboy Found Love?_

He cringed, wishing they didn't have to be so dramatic about it.

And why the hell was there even a story about it?  
Didn't they have more important stories to chase?

"We were just… just…" Dick was acutely aware of Bruce waiting for him to continue. "We just… It just happened."

"You just happened to kiss Barbara Gordon?"

"I… no! We weren't…!" He stopped himself, because, no, that wasn't exactly true.

He had just leaned over, planting a peck on her cheek, when he'd thought they were alone.

Dick remembered the little thrill of happiness that had surged through him.

Barbara had gasped, then blushed.

It had been their perfect moment.

Or rather, it had started out perfect.

And then, like a child, he had decided to show off, hopping up onto the lip of the fountain. Barbara had given him a cheeky grin… and then she'd lightly shoved him in.

He'd spluttered indignantly, and then retaliated in turn, launching himself out of the fountain like a sea monster of legend and splashing the water all over her dress.

He smiled involuntarily, remembering Barbara's startled shriek.

And then of course, they'd had to creep away, sopping wet, because they both knew the ire they'd face if they'd returned to Bruce Wayne's party drenched to the bone.

Dick had changed and Alfred-always ready to help-had been able to find something for Barbara to wear. He'd agreed to take care of their clothes too, having them done in time for Barbara to take them home.

He was magic, that man.

It had been so small, but it had still been their moment.

Their private moment.

Until now.

He clenched his fists, angry that someone had intruded upon their moment, _their_ moment.

And now it was plastered across the papers for everyone to see.

Dick supposed he should be grateful the picture taken

A wave of humiliation washed over him, though, because someone _had_ seen. Someone had been watching them.

They'd probably seen the whole incident with the fountain too and wasn't _that_ something he didn't even want to dwell on.

He was lucky that hadn't been included in the article.

A picture of the two of them, dripping wet, as he climbed out of the fountain.

Yes, that would have been lovely indeed.

Dick realized that Bruce was still waiting for him to answer.

"Do you want to explain to me what happened afterwards?" Bruce asked calmly.

He wasn't angry, Dick realized.

No, he was amused, toying with him the way a cat would a mouse.

Why did he think this was funny?

Dick could feel his nails biting into flesh as he tightened his fists.

"What?" he finally exploded. "Were you spying on us too? Do you not trust me that much, Bruce?"

He faintly registered a look of surprise on Bruce's face, before it hardened.

Dick didn't care.

"It's bad enough that all of Gotham is going to think this is their business before long, but do _you_ have to involve yourself too?"

Something niggled in the back of his head, telling him he should quit when he was ahead.

He ignored it.

"I _like_ her, Bruce." His voice pleaded with Bruce not to interfere, not to say no to _them._ "I want this to work out."

Bruce was quiet. His face had gone serious. Dick didn't think that was a good thing. "You're sixteen, Dick."

Dick swallowed. "I know."

Dick didn't just _think_ this wasn't a good thing anymore.

He _knew_ it wasn't a good thing.

"She's seventeen."

"A year's not that big of a difference."  
Bruce waved him off. "That's not my point. I don't care if you're a year apart, but… you're both incredibly young."  
Dick found himself bristling. "And?"  
"And a relationship takes a lot of responsibility. And commitment."  
"Bruce, I go out on patrols with you nearly every night. How can you even think I'm not responsible? Or committed?"  
Bruce rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "There's a difference."  
Dick crossed his arms, well aware that he was pushing boundaries here, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

This was Barbara they were talking about.

He liked her- _really_ liked her.

His relationship with her…

 _Relationship._

Dick realized with a jolt that before today he had never used that word when it came to him and Barbara.

Best friends, sure… and he'd certainly had a crush.

But after the dance, the kiss, and the accident with the fountain… maybe they were in a relationship after all.

It had just taken this to realize it.

"If there is, I don't see it. Bruce, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. We both are. And I told you how I feel. Can't you see that this is what will make me happy?"

He brought himself up short.

He hadn't meant for this to end up sounding like a guilt trip, but it had nonetheless.

"Bruce…"

"Dick, this isn't about me not wanting you to be happy. I don't want you to get hurt."

Dick was taken aback. How could Bruce think that either of them would hurt the other?

"Bruce, that won't happen."

"I don't think either of you would mean for it to."

Dick grit his teeth.

"Why are you so set against this, Bruce?" he asked, planting his hands on the table. "You say you're not. You say you want me to be happy, but _this_ makes me happy! _Barbara_ makes me happy."

"Dick…" Bruce began.

"I need to go." Dick straightened abruptly.

He was well aware the he was acting as if he were twelve years old, but he needed some air. He didn't think him being in the room with Bruce right now was a good idea. At least not until they both had a chance to cool down.

A hand landed on his shoulder. Dick tensed, but Bruce's voice, when he spoke, was surprisingly gentle. "Dick, look at me."

Dick considered shrugging off his hand- he was still angry.

He thought the better of it and turned.

"Do you really think I would try to sabotage your happiness with Barbara?" he asked, so seriously that Dick flushed and looked at the ground.

"No," he answered, honestly. He realized that he didn't even have to consider it and, more than that, he felt guilty for even considering it in the first place.

"I have nothing against you and Barbara."

He spoke slowly, carefully.

Dick crinkled his brow, staring at him in confusion.

"Than what…?"

"I meant it when I said that I don't want you to get hurt. I want you to be happy and… if Barbara makes you happy, than I will be the first to give you my blessing." His hand tightened on Dick's shoulder and then dropped it away, keeping it by his side.

They hadn't quite made it past the massive dining table yet, so Bruce gestured to the chairs with one sweep of his hand.

"Would you like to sit down?" His tone made it clear that it was a choice, not a command.

Dick hesitated a moment, before pulling out a chair and settling himself in it.

Bruce did likewise.

"She's not going to hurt me, Bruce," Dick said. He had folded his hands on the table in front of him and was now staring at them with an intensity that rivaled Superman's heat vision. Bruce almost expected the papers to start curling up."I know that maybe you think this is going to be like one of those one night stands," _like the ones you have._ The words weren't spoken, but Bruce felt their sting nonetheless, "but it's not. We haven't even thought about… that. And we won't. I promise! Barbara means more to me than that!"

With that said, he blushed furiously again, but bravely lifted his head to meet Bruce's gaze.

"Dick…" Bruce spoke slowly. He took a deep breath, then slowly released it. He rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his forehead, wondering how the hell they had traversed into dangerous territory such as this. "I know. I trust you, though… I might not have given that impression initially."

He regretted teasing the boy now.

Oh, how he regretted it.

Dick furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused now. The redness of his cheeks had faded to a faint pink that was barely visible.

"So… you're not angry with me?"

Bruce cast his eyes to where the newspaper still lay on the table. Truth be told, he was angry. Angry at the photographer who thought it would be okay to snap a picture of two minors without their knowledge and without their consent. Angry at the paper that decided to publish such a picture.

He looked back at Dick. "No. Not at you."

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing his cellphone and standing up.

Dick perked up, watching him through eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Bruce barely glanced at him. "To make some calls."

After all, if Bruce Wayne was fair game in the eyes of the media, well, his son was an entirely different matter.


End file.
